


Sleep Tight

by MetallicHeartache (TwistedViolets)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Jaskier is doing the dirty, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, Sharing a Bed, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Somnophilia, maybe(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/MetallicHeartache
Summary: Out in the woods, miles away from civilization is two men. A Witcher and a bard...both sharing a single fur.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 199





	Sleep Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe here’s a work I wrote for a friend <3

Cold.

The trees swayed with the wind and the crickets seemed to hide themselves away because their chirping became no more. Just rustling filled the dry air around them.

Jaskier lays on the fur, steady heart, rising heat on his cheats, sudden sweat pooling in his palms. A small blanket is thrown on him, thin, and filled with rips and tears. It smells just like Geralt, not that having Geralt beside isn't as rewarding but...

To be able to sniff it is another thing entirely.

Geralt sleeps beside him, motionless, eyes closed, breathes steady, his chest moving up in down in a constant motion that's slower than the conventional humans.

It's strange.

He worms his way more deeply underneath the blankets. Feeling the heat from Geralt consume him, the sudden twitch in his pants as he inhales more of that lovely scent.

Geralt's musk, his scent that was ingrained with sweat and dirt...and blood. He imagines if he ran his tongue over his neck or his chest he’d find it having a metallic taste.

He closes his eyes and takes deep steady breaths. He needs to go to sleep, these thoughts aren't doing anything but interrupting his beauty sleep. Which he needs so desperately...like a man in a desert needing water.

He can't sleep though. He's got a problem now, a very, very uncomfortable problem. He's hard and he can't help but rub his legs together in some attempt to soothe the problem.

It does little.

Should he go take care of it? Should he go off behind a tree? He should shouldn't he? He knows but...the very thought of doing it here, staring at Geralt, smelling his scent, feeling his heat, it makes him twitch again.

He wants to...he wants to do this.

'It's wrong' the thought bites at him as he undoes his pants before pushing them down, along with his undergarments. 

He'll make it quick.

Just a stroke here, inhale of breath there and it'll be over with. He grasps himself, hissing from the mere relief that it brings him. He begins stroking himself, only concerned with finishing quickly. His stomach burns and he curls his toes against the fur.

He bites his lip to keep a moan from leaving his lip as he examined Geralt. The way his mouth glistens from the moonlight, the way his hair is so perfectly messy, just little strains stick out here and there, how with each pump of his heart his body seems to grow hotter.

He wants to get closer. He wants to touch Geralt, run his hands up his side, his chest, down his thighs, gods he wants that and more.

He lets his finger circle the head, he rubs droplets of precum down the tip to the shaft. Improving the experience, edging just a bit, just enough to feel his heart go crazy with adrenaline.

Geralt is right there. He could wake up at any moment. He could open his eyes and look at him with that piercing gaze of his. He could talk to him, tell him what a dirty little bard he's being.

It sounds so good.

He buries his face into the thin blanket, sniffing it intently. He wishes he could bury his face into Geralt's hair instead. The sliver strains always seem so soft, so well maintained, and he can just imagine the smell of them.

He bites his cheek as he cums in his palm. His stomach on fire, his flagging erection sensitive, and his eyes drooping. Nothing makes him more tired than a good wank.

He wipes his hand off on the side of his pants before pulling them up. He snuggles into the blanket and turns on his side, already ready for sleep.

...

The smell of arousal isn't something he's usually fond of waking up to. Particularly when he's in the forest, alone with his bard, and he knows it's going to be one of those nights.

He doesn't interfere in Jaskier's affair. It doesn't concern him, and he knows humans are sensitive about such matters. He's never particularly been one for self-loving...but he understands how weeks on the road could do that to a man.

So he says nothing.

It is, however, the first time they've ever been so close. Usual they slept on separate sides of the fire but today it was cold so he said fuck it. Share a fur...what could go wrong?

The longer it goes on the longer the smell of Jaskier's arousal turns from strange and foreign to something familiar and sweet. Somehow he finds himself wanting to get closer, really inhale the scent, but he doesn't.

There are human lines he just won't cross and this is one of them so he keeps his eyes closed and wills away any unnatural thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this isn’t too bad <3


End file.
